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Dreams of an Emerald Forest IV
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
DREAMS OF AN EMERALD FOREST IV
by Sarah Jahn
I rolled over, feeling the net of the hammock come unstuck from my bare
skin. I reached down, rubbing the place where I had a copy of the
pattern impressed, bright red. Closing my eyes again, I realized it was
hopeless. I was up. I sighed, and sat up. Swinging my feet around, I
jumped to the floor. Outside the door, twilight was falling. I must have
slept forever... Going to the door, I saw people sitting around the
flames, their faces painted a flickering orange. The sky had turned a deep
blue, except for the bottom towards the earth, which was still a fading red
and orange from the setting sun. Far above my head, a few of the brightest
stars had come out. Venus, cold blue white, stared down from her throne. I
smelled meat and something else cooking, as the wind blew the smoke towards
me standing in the doorway.
At the twisting and growling of my stomach, I felt myself going up to the
foot of the fire. I sat down next to a man who was busily eating the meat
off a large bone, ripping off bits with his teeth. It smelled delicious.
Even the grease on his hands looked appetizing. He looked up, noticing I
was blankly staring at the meat he held in his hands. Keeping my eye, he
turned around, and pointed towards the other side of the fire. I followed
his finger, to see where some indeterminate animal was roasting, suspended
over the fire on a green wood frame. People had gathered around it, and
one at a time reached to it, taking what they wanted. I nodded, smiling,
and got up. Before long, I had eaten enough so that the mere thought of
food made my eyes cross. I went and sat under a tree at the edge of the
clearing, to let my stomach relax. Now I remembered how I felt when I left
my grandmother's every Thanksgiving. I vaguely wondered what that had been
that I had eagerly eaten. Maybe it was better not to know until later.
I lay at the tree's base, watching mothers play with children, children
lightly fighting with each other, and men doing the male-bonding thing,
comparing spears and telling stories. As time passed, more and more of
the crowd gathered around the men telling stories, sitting with their arms
crossed over their knees, staring intently at the teller. He gestured
wildly, waving his hands around, and making extraordinary faces. Curious,
I got up and sat next to some children to listen. True, I couldn't
understand the language but it was fun to watch anyway. I could tell what
was supposed to be the scary bits, and the funny parts, and had the correct
reactions. The night got darker, the sun totally disappearing. The stars
brightened, and the fire got hotter as people threw more wood on it. The
smoke kept away the mosquitoes quite well, I was happy to discover. The
stories ended, and some people drifted off towards the huts, fuzzy shapes
off in the darkness.
Others got up and sat around another figure, who bent over a bowl he held
in his lap. I rose and went to go see what was going on. Between his legs,
he held a long hollow reed, like a smaller version of a blow gun. He was
grinding up something, and mixing it with a powder he poured into the bowl
from a gourd by his feet. I leaned over the shoulder of a man in front of me.
The powder was a faint odd shade of green, bits of it were moist, making
little balls that the man crushed out, grinding them against the side of
the container. Listening to people talk around me, their voices sounded
hushed, excited. I was becoming more and more curious to know what it was.
Was he going to perform a ritual? A religious ceremony? All of these and
other anthropology catechisms occurred to me, but none of them seemed right.
I had no idea what he was doing. I guess I'd just have to wait and see.
People had sat down to wait. I did the same. He reached down and put the
bowl near the coals, to get it warm and dry it... Then he retrieved a
small round container that had been next to the gourd by his feet. The
women in the group moved back to let the men forward, who crowded closer
to him, and knelt. This was getting more bizarre but it was definitely
educational. He pulled off the lid and dipped his fingers into the small
globe. They came out covered with what looked like a thick white paint.
Which is exactly what it was. He smeared it onto the faces of the men, and
their bodies, in intricate patterns. When he was done, the men had been
transformed from ordinary to supernatural looking beings, the firelight
giving their eyes an eerie glint, and their muscles a higher definition.
One near me had swirls coming down over his biceps, turning into bold
stripes that ended at his fingertips, and bars widening and narrowing up
and down his legs. His hair was pulled back to reveal high cheekbones,
and a wide sensual mouth. I realized I was staring rather blatantly at
him when he turned and returned my look. As he looked me over, I remembered
one important fact that had escaped my mind hanging out with 99% naked
people. I myself was absolutely naked, sitting there with my arms around
my knees. When our eyes met, I wasn't sure what to do, I felt both
ashamed and aroused. Looking away seemed the best choice. I felt someone
poke me from behind. It was the woman who had burned my clothes. She
had a conspiratorial look in her eyes, and she winked. I couldn't believe
I had seen that. Must have been a trick of the light. I turned around,
confused.
The powder had dried. I watched the older man pull it up and stir it
experimentally with his finger, and made a sound of sastifaction. It
had some kind of mildly oily nature that made it leave a residue, but
I saw some of it get caught in the breeze and mix with the dirt beneath
his feet. The men were silent but the women chattered happily. Dessert?
An aphrodesiac? A hallacinogen? More questions but no answers yet...
The elder got up, and taking a bit of the powder between his thumb and
forefinger, inserted it into the opening of the reed. The man closest to
him raised his head, proudly jutting his chin out. I watched as the older
man put the end of the reed to one of his nostrils, and taking a deep breath,
expelled it hard. The painted man fell back, landing awkwardly. Two near
him took him in their arms, as he started to jerkily convulse. This lasted
about a minute, then he stood, and began to dance, wildly. He circled the
fire, his eyes crazed. Whatever that powder was, it was powerful. And
frightening. The women were quiet now, watching as one after the other took
it. I sat at the end, when the last man took it. He came to me next. He
looked at me quizically, lifting one eyebrow, and the reed in his hand.
I turned around to see what the women were going to do. They shook their
heads at my questioning face. I turned back, looking beyond the reed to
the men who stamped and twisted, illuminated by the fire's light. They
didn't look real. None of this did. Maybe it was all a dream. So, if it
was, might as well do the impossible in it.
I raised my head, and looked into his eyes. I'm not afraid, I said, even
though I knew he couldn't understand my words. Part of me shrank back as
he put the drug near me but physically I hardened myself for it. The
reed was smooth, cold. I felt him move slightly as he took a deep breath,
then felt the warmth of his breath in my lungs, then an explosion. I tasted
something strange and coppery on my tongue, but didn't comprehend it.
My body was out of control, I felt my limbs moving spasmodically, dimly aware
of arms on me. I felt like my mind had been ripped out of my body...and
saw the forest in front of me suddenly. It was different, dark. The trees
flashed past me as I ran, leaping over fallen branches. My muscles seemed
like liquid power, the sheer act of moving was incredibly pleasurable. My
breath came to me easily, rhythmatically. But the way I moved, the feelings,
were different. I looked down at myself, and saw paws. Black as space, the
moonlight shining off the curve up into the leg, into the bunched muscle.
Panther. Chasing its prey, which ran in front of me, wildly crashing along.
I could smell the fear coming from it. It was acrid, bright white. It saw
its death and ran. I had been only pursuing before, but now I hunted. A
massive gathering and leap, over the stick-like legs jerking, to a throat
betrayed by a fragile jugular fluttering underneath. A scream resounded in
my ears but I ignored it as it gradually faded to an imaginary echo. The
blood, red, hot, bitter flowed into me and I was sastified.
Somewhere far beneath me, my body rose and began to dance, gesturing to the
fire, bending to its primal heat. I saw the flickering colors in it, and
was fascinated by the waves of blue and pure white that moved inside the red.
The coals, half buried in grey dry ash, looked like magical stones, the
heat moving across their surface like unearthly water. I danced for them,
until I fell to my knees in exhaustion. My body had betrayed me but the earth
still accepted me. I curled up into a fetal position, breathing in gasps.
Someone touched me and I found myself rising into a leap, bound to run. I
looked into the face of the painted man, who had been the first to take the
powder. I didn't recognize him, but at his touch, I trembled. His eyes
darkened, and he reached out again. His hand brushed over my shoulder, almost
absentmindedly. His pretended distraction was a lie, I could see his tension
reflected in his mouth and body. At his touch to my lips, I froze.
His hand came away red, shiny in the dying light of the coals. I realized the
blood in my mouth had been my own, biting my tongue.
It wasn't bad. I turned and spat into the flames, hearing the hiss, and
wiped my mouth on my hand. What did he want? His fingers on my lips had felt
electrifying... I reached up, gingerly feeling my tongue. He mirrored my
actions, putting his finger between his lips and tasting my blood. I watched
this, mesmerized.
He licked his lips, slowly. I never thought that gesture could be extremely
erotic until now. I could see his lips were tinged red still... I felt
myself moving closer to him, then tasting his mouth. He put his arms around
me, pulling me closer and down. Running my hands up his arms, I felt the
hardness of the muscles under the smooth skin. The dried paint was slightly
rough. I felt it against the back of my neck. I raised myself a bit, enough
to kiss him, arms running down his body. There is a strange thing when you
kiss someone, someone who is good at it that is. You lose yourself in it,
sometimes even more than during the start of sex. Your eyes close. It's pitch
dark. You wait, anticipating the first touch of lips against yours. They are
soft, warm, moist. The wetness tastes cool, like a stream on a blisteringly
hot summer day. You drink it and drink it and you never get enough. You press
your body against his, opening your mouth to him. More more but you can't get
close enough. There is only one way to be sastified... I felt him caress my
breast. The nipple was hard, so I felt every nuace of his fingertip. It
slowly circled, then he lightly pinched the tip. I groaned, feeling it like
a hot bruise between my legs.
I could feel him, hard, pressing against me. Urgent purpose, so serious.
This was truly something to be serious about, the search for pleasure. It
was a release from the everyday pains of life, taking you out of yourself
more than any drug could. For some reason, maybe it was the powder, but
my skin seemed to be more sensitive than normal, and the most bizarre
thoughts kept occurring to me. As his hair, now released, dragged over my
breasts, I felt it like a broom, made of the softest bristles. His mouth
took in a nipple, sucking on it, flicking his tongue over it, lightly
biting. Ah... I moaned, stretching my body out. The dirt was cold, rough
against my back, making his skin seem more silkily warm. He had removed
his cloth. I closed my hand around him, surprised at the heat. The skin was
as soft as the inside of a lip. At the same time I touched him, he ran a
finger into me, his thumb going between the lips, to the top. The combined
feel of his teeth on my nipple, and his hand touching me made me inhale
sharply. He found the wetness in me, drawing it out, caressing. His hand
began to move faster, freed by the slickness. I felt open, very warm. My
legs felt sluggish, but my heart was beating fast. The pulse at my neck
attracted his attention, as he bent to it and bit lightly.
My hips rose to him uncontrollably, moving in time to his demands. I gasped
in time to the too brief movements of his thumb over my clitoris... But
suddenly it became exactly right. I anticipated each stroke in my mind,
feeling it building up. The fragile link to the climax grew stronger, and I
knew it was inevitable. Just as I arched to him, he moved from above me to
between my legs, pulling his hand away. The fever of my movements slowed,
and I despaired at the lose of what had been so close. He surprised me
by sliding his legs between mine, spreading my legs apart and moving up and
into me. His fullness made me realize how empty I had been before, not
knowing. He slipped in deeper, going exquisitely slow... Moving
through the tightness. I ran my hands up his back, resting them on his
shoulderblades, and raised my legs so that my feet came to his calves.
Feeling his muscles bunch beneath my hands, and his hips begin to move
against mine, I was silent. Only our breathing broke the quiet of the night
beside the whispering coals, falling in on themselves. As the wind moved
the ashes, and blew the coals into a temporary glorious brightness, we made
love. Connected to him, I imagined our blood flowing together. Back
and forth from him to me, as he slid in and out again and again. I ran my
hand under his soft hair, letting it run over my hand like water, turning
to kiss his mouth again. He raised his head from against my neck, stroking
my hair, and returning the kiss. As we moved against each other, I felt
his breath in my mouth. Warm and sweet. I breathed it in, and felt his
lips moving away as he raised himselves up onto his arms and looked down
at me.
Above his head, the waning moon looked down voyeuristically. His eyes were
black, shining only in the silvery blue light that fell down onto the
clearing. I lifted my hands to touch his chest, running my fingers over
his nipples. Dark brown circles on a field with a coppery sheen, moistened
by his sweat. I stroked them, watching his eyes half close. His breathing
was deepening. His hair, long black sheafs, slid over his shoulders as
he bent forward and back. The moon's glowing whiteness shone down... I looked
up at it, beyond him. His movements kept me there only. The orgasm was
very close, but I continued to stare at the sterile silver lakes and
mountains so many miles away. I drew in a deep breath, feeling the heat
opening me up again, losing my mind for that brief moment. His cry was
sharp... I heard it, deaf to my own.
Winding down, he leaned down to me, whispering something I couldn't know,
and kissing me gently. I closed my eyes, feeling my heart move in time
with his, as he pressed against my chest. It was all drifting off again,
falling away, to blackness. Soft fields of nothingness, that reached out
to me.
I opened my eyes. I was looking up at a bare white ceiling, broken by the
fixture of the plainly functional flouresecent the University had
installed. It was over, and I remembered. Gathering up the energy, I sat up.
The sun was rising outside, over the bare trees of Sylvan. The leaves had
drifted down, littering the ground with peels of orange, rust, and red. The
sky was covered by heavy sullen-looking fall clouds. I felt a wetness in my
eyes that beaded into a tear that fell from my cheek to the comforter.
I looked down to watch it land, soaking slowly into the comforter. As
my eyes moved over the comforter, I felt my lips turn up into a smile.
On the comforter's cotton surface lay a single leaf, such a bright green
it looked like an emerald jewel in that dull dorm room. Picking it up,
I put it on the bedside table, and got up for the shower. Another day,
another class....
----The End----
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